


9:23 a.m.

by elementalv



Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_flashfic, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-17
Updated: 2009-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalv/pseuds/elementalv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray is, frankly, fucking desperate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	9:23 a.m.

Ray is, frankly, fucking desperate. Or desperate for fucking. Or both, if he stops to think about it for any length of time, which is impossible right then, because Fraser has his hand on Ray’s dick, which is pretty much a guarantee that Ray’s brains are leaking out his ears. Or maybe his dick, because that’s leaking pretty good now, and he thinks it’s possible it’s his brains spilling out onto Fraser’s hand.

The problem is that someone (Ray, probably, because Fraser doesn’t forget important shit. Hell, he doesn’t forget shit, period.) forgot to pick up lube, and Fraser is a little too sharing and caring to think spit makes up the difference. Normally, Ray would be on board with that, but right now? Right at this very moment in time? He wants Fraser’s dick in him like he’s wanted nothing before, and if he doesn’t get it the way he wants it, it’s possible that Ray might burst into tears, and that would be a fucking tragedy.

If he had two brain cells left to rub together, Ray might laugh at his joke, but he doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, because Fraser is working Ray’s neck, which apparently has a direct connection to Ray’s dick, since every time Fraser bites down on his neck, Ray’s dick does a little dance. A samba, maybe the macarena. Whatever. The point is that Ray’s dick likes it a hell of a lot when Fraser bites down on Ray’s neck, and maybe those two body parts are twins separated at birth, but Ray doesn’t give a shit, because (probably) Ray forgot to pick up the fucking lube.

So instead of getting fucked, like he’s been thinking about since approximately 9:23 a.m., Ray can, at best, hope for a hand job followed by him blowing Fraser. And okay, it’s not like giving Fraser a blowjob is a hardship, because it’s not. Fraser’s got that foreskin going for him, and when Ray works his tongue just right, he can get Fraser going good enough to make him swear in a low voice that sends tingles up Ray’s spine.

Tingles, in Ray’s opinion, are never something to be sneezed at.

Still, Ray really, _really_ wants to be fucked, and unless he comes up with an acceptable substitute for lube, he’s shit out of luck. Just then, Fraser switches sides and leaves his mark on the other side of Ray’s neck, and god, Ray wishes he could show those marks off to the world to prove to everyone just who belongs to who. Most of the time, he doesn’t even mind that the marks prove he belongs to Fraser and not the other way around.

He’s got these thoughts bouncing around in his head when he rolls his eyes around and happens to catch sight of the one thing Fraser might, _might_ be willing to use, and hell, it’s kind of perfect, because even if it don’t melt in Fraser’s mouth, it’s sure as hell gonna melt in Ray’s ass.

“Frase,” he moans. Fraser doesn’t let up, so Ray nudges his shoulder and tries again. “Frase.”

“I’m not using spit, Ray.” Except right there, just then? That’s exactly what Fraser uses. He uses spit like it’s some kind of paint or ink or some other damn thing while his tongue acts like a brush and spreads it around on Ray’s neck and shoulder, like he’s painting a masterpiece. And maybe he is, because Ray doesn’t think art gets more perfect than this. His eyes roll again, and he remembers what he was trying to say.

“No, not that.” Ray moans again, because Fraser is a fucking artiste when it comes to using his lips and teeth.

“What, then?” Fraser asks in that low, growly voice he sometimes gets. It’s the voice that makes Ray go weak in the knees every single time, and this time is no different, because Fraser has to catch him when he starts to go down.

It takes him a few tries, but Ray finally manages to spit out, “Butter. Butter, Frase. It —”

Only Ray doesn’t get to finish what he was saying, because Fraser makes a _really_ deep noise in the back of his throat, and the next thing Ray knows, he’s being carried fireman-style into the bedroom with a brief stop at the fridge, and then he’s being dumped onto the bed by Fraser, who doesn’t look so patient and kind. Mostly, he looks a little pissed, which shouldn’t turn Ray on as much as it does, but there it was, Ray’s dick, doing a little rumba in his underwear.

“You couldn’t have thought of this sooner?”

“Brain’s leaking out of my dick. Be happy I thought of it at all,” Ray says, fumbling with his belt and jeans to get them off as quick as possible, and Christ, he shouldn’t have thought about “getting off,” because he damn near shot his load just then, and that wouldn’t have been fun for anyone. Except maybe Fraser, because he actually liked it when Ray shot jizz into his underwear. Freak.

Ray would say more, but Fraser’s getting naked way faster than he is, so Ray has to catch up, no matter how turned on he might get by a pissed-off Fraser, because again, he’s been waiting since 9:23 a.m. to get fucked, and if Fraser has to wait too long for Ray to get naked, he’ll just make Ray wait all the longer. Which, yes, can mean happy fun times for Ray and his dick, but not right then, not when he’s been practically dying for Fraser’s dick.

It’s a near thing, but Ray manages only just to get naked before Fraser does, which is why, blessed relief, Fraser tosses a stick of butter at him and says, “Time to get basted.”

Fraser has never mastered the single entendre, let alone the double, but Ray doesn’t really give a shit. The fact that he’s on the bed with butter in hand — soon to be in ass — means that Fraser is on board with the butter-as-lube, and no matter how weird it is to shove a stick of better between his legs, Ray is _not_ backing down from this. Not with Fraser’s dick twitching and leaking the way it is every time Ray works his hand just so.

Ray doesn’t think it’ll take too long before Fraser grabs the butter and — oh yeah. It’s weird, feeling those corners, but Ray is hot, hot, _hot_, and he was right about butter melting in his ass. Turns out Fraser’s dick makes it melt pretty good, too, and he’s slicking himself up nice as can be. In fact, he’s doing such a good job of it that Ray starts to reach for it, because he wants a taste of buttered up Fraser.

No go, though. Fraser shoves him back down and says, “You wanted this elsewhere, I believe.”

That prissy tone doesn’t work quite as much magic as Fraser’s pissy tone, but it sure as hell gets Ray back on topic again. He spreads his legs and holds his dick tight. It’s the only way he has a chance of not coming the second Fraser starts nudging at his hole with his dick, and it’s a good thing he did, too, because his dick starts jerking all on its own as soon as Fraser starts that slow burning slide in.

“Jesus,” Ray grunts, wrapping his legs around Fraser’s waist to bring him in faster.

“Language.” _Fuck_, Fraser shouldn’t be able to do that to him, but he can and he does, and Ray has to squeeze his dick and his legs tighter, because no way is he shooting off before Fraser’s all the way in.

“Sorry,” he stutters, because if he doesn’t, Fraser’ll take his toys and go home — he’s done it before. It’s a little fucked up, Fraser’s version of domination, but it makes Ray’s nerves sing like anything, because it works for him, for them. The fact that Fraser didn’t even bother to threaten to leave tells Ray he’s just as desperate to fuck Ray as Ray is to be fucked, and that’s quite possibly the best news Ray has gotten all day.

Fraser starts out slow, but as he looks into Ray’s eyes, he starts speeding up pretty damn quick, which is fine with Ray, because he’s been waiting for this all goddamn day long. They hit a rhythm that gets Ray feeling pretty blissed out in short order, and Ray could stay in that headspace for-freaking-ever, but Fraser? Fraser’s got other plans, which is probably why he grabs Ray’s dick and starts twisting it just so. Fraser’s hand on his dick plus Fraser’s dick up his ass is an equation for Ray to come right the fuck now, which he does with a shout that in no way resembles a whimper.

Ray is certain of that, even if he’s not quite sure he knows his own name right at the moment, and that’s good. It’s fantastic, even, because he’s pretty sure Fraser doesn’t know his own name either. If he did, he’d probably be getting up to find a washcloth or something. Instead, he’s lying flat on top of Ray, holding him down and not letting him fly away.

It’s the best kind of end to a day that’s had Ray wanting to be fucked since 9:23 a.m., and he’s not about to nudge Fraser off.


End file.
